What We Do Is Secret
by LoriEchelon
Summary: It was simple really, this complicated relationship between the two of them. James was the heroin and Kendall was the junkie. Kames. One shot.


_A/N: Kames. One Shot. No idea where this came from, but I kind of love it. Warnings for mature content and some brief mentions of dub-con. Nothing too graphic. The title is blatantly stolen from the biopic of the same name about Darby Crash from the band The Germs. (Nothing else about this fic is really based on that, though.) Read and review if you so desire!_

* * *

James was like a drug to Kendall. Powerful, intensely addictive and criminal; hijacking his brain, corrupting his every thought, slowly destroying his soul from the inside out and causing him to go slightly insane. And Kendall knew it. But it didn't matter, it never mattered. He didn't care that James was causing him to deteriorate and become nothing but a shadow of his former self, he just kept going back for more. He couldn't help himself, he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He always needed another fix. He would sink to such horrifyingly low depths for that short period of euphoria that afterwards he couldn't even face his own reflection. But he never failed to return for more. Always wanting, needing, craving another hit, another high, seeking James out and willing to pay whatever price necessary, exactly like a dope head trying to score another bag of smack. One for the road, something to get him through the day, a drug that he felt was necessary to take to distract his focus from all of his misery and block his thoughts for at least a little while.

It was simple really, this complicated relationship between the two of them. James was the heroin and Kendall was the junkie. Always telling himself this was it (it never was), he just needed the high one last time (he always needed another high), just needed to go out with one final bang and then he'd be done for good (he was never done), this was definitely the last time (it was never the last time). Deep down, Kendall never wanted it to end. No matter how often he told himself he had to end this addiction and get his life back he never made a single attempt at actually getting clean. Even if there was some type of rehab he could attend to get James out of his system, Kendall knew he wouldn't have gone. Because he didn't really want to. Kendall didn't want to get James out of his system. He wanted to shoot him straight up into his bloodstream until the day it killed him. He was addicted to the sensations and the rush it brought him, same as any other addict.

It didn't matter how depraved he felt afterwards. It didn't matter how degrading it was. Kendall needed those quick and dirty injections of James just to function normally. Going too long without a fix would bring about his own personal form of dope sickness; the physical pain and mental suffering that he felt and experienced in those times when he had to go without for too long would have brought even a seasoned junkie to their knees. It was ironic really, the way Kendall thought he couldn't live without James, since James was the exact thing that made the old Kendall cease to exist, essentially killing off who he used to be to the point that he didn't even recognize himself anymore.

And somehow, in some cruel and unfair way, James always managed to walk away unaffected, unscathed. Either unaware or uncaring that he left nothing in the dust behind him but a quivering, drugged out fiend. The blond already crashing down from his short-lived high, never fully satisfied, counting down the seconds until he could once again experience that climax that no one and nothing but the brunet was capable of giving him.

* * *

Kendall inhaled sharply, wincing at the force with which James shoved him over the arm of the hotel room sofa. James didn't seem to notice the blonde's discomfort, or more likely just didn't care. He was never gentle, never bothered with pleasantries, and rarely spoke unless it was to command the man below him to do something or to mutter dirty words and phrases that pierced straight into Kendall's heart, causing it to shatter like the glass it was, the shards tearing and ripping his soul in to even more fragments than it was already in. James never pretended to himself or to Kendall that this was anything more than what they'd silently agreed it was years ago when they started this sick and twisted ritual; an emotionless fuck, a way to release pent-up emotions and get off without having to follow through in the morning.

James' nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper on Kendall's jeans, shoving them down unceremoniously, smirking with satisfaction at the fact that Kendall wasn't wearing anything underneath them. Kendall knew the drill by now, and as James worked on his own pants, Kendall poured lube from the nearby bottle into his right hand, reaching back to prepare himself. James was impatient and aggressive, and if Kendall didn't work himself open he knew from past experience that it would be more pain than pleasure. He liked pain, but not so much so that he wanted it to outweigh the pleasure.

James finished rolling a condom onto himself and swatted Kendall's hand away. He was ready to go, which meant Kendall damn well better be too. Pressing his tip against Kendall's entrance, James worked himself in, not stopping to give the other time to adjust before he was buried to the hilt with a grunt, ignoring Kendall's agonized whimper below him. He stayed sheathed inside the tightness for a few seconds before pulling back and then snapping his hips forward in a harsh movement which caused another whine from the blond.

"How are you still so fucking tight?" James muttered. It wasn't a compliment. (Though Kendall allowed himself believe it was one.)

James continued his thrusting, letting the occasional groan of appreciation slip from his lips and Kendall stayed in position, knowing the routine by now. Ass up, head down, face away, eyes clenched tight until he loosened up enough that he started to feel some of the pleasure James was feeling. Back when they'd first started hooking up and he'd been on a bed on his hands and knees he'd made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder at James while he was pounding into him. He never made that mistake again, since his actions had earned him a forceful slap to the face that stung not only physically but emotionally as well. James had merely told him "Don't fucking look at me," and shoved Kendall's head down into the mattress, fucking all that much harder into him.

Kendall had learned his lesson. If he wanted James (and honestly, he did so much it ached), there was only one way. And that was James' way. Which meant Kendall should be nothing more than a hole for him to fuck, while James most likely pretended he was someone else, someone more feminine.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Kendall was moaning along with James, though he made sure to keep his moans quiet, his voice high. Another lesson learned the hard way. James was rougher than normal this time, though. Slapping Kendall's ass every once a while, reminding him what a whore he was (as if he didn't know), and refusing to let Kendall touch himself, his growled out explanation being something about how bitches should come from his cock alone.

And shameful though it was to Kendall, that was exactly how he got off. From nothing more than the feeling of James relentlessly fuckng into him, his cock going completely untouched even as it spurted out load after load onto the stained blue cushion below him.

Kendall tightened himself best he could when he felt James' actions get more frenzied, knowing the brunet was close and wanting to help him reach his release. James' may not appreciate it, but knowing he'd been the one to make James' lose even the tiniest bit of that control he held onto so desperately ever since Kendall had known him helped Kendall make it through until the next time he received a text message from an unsaved but memorized phone number that contained an address, a time and nothing more.

* * *

Kendall paced back and forth in the hotel room that James' had texted him the address to, nerves so high he felt sick to his stomach, knowing this was finally it. He was finally going to kick the habit. For good. He meant it this time. He was done. He was sick of being objectified, sick of being nothing more than James' personal slut, sick of….everything. He was done.

The room he paced was like every other one he'd met James in. Dark, dingy, dirty. The perfect place to fuck someone you didn't respect and didn't care about. It was like James thought the hotels he picked were metaphors for Kendall himself, filthy, easy and cheap.

But not anymore. Kendall deserved better. He couldn't do this anymore. He'd never be anything more to the brunet than a warm, tight hole and a last resort when he needed to get his rocks off. Kendall had to start respecting himself again, even though James never would. Or maybe especially because James never would.

The thought of never seeing James again, never feeling his insides filled to capacity with him again caused Kendall to grow short of breath, his heart constricting, arguing with him, telling him to take what he could get and be happy with it. It reminded him that no one else would want him now that James was done with him. He was damaged goods, past the expiration date, a tin can that had fallen off the shelf and been dented so many times that no matter how discounted the price was no one would buy it. His brain argued that that wasn't true. What little was left of his soul listened to them fight it out and noted that it didn't matter one way or another anymore. It didn't matter if Kendall continued this perverted charade with James or not, because neither outcome would leave him happy and satisfied. Nothing would fulfill him except the one thing he knew would never happen. To be a person to James again. And not only _a_ person, but _the_ person.

But James didn't love him and he never would. He'd fuck him until the day Kendall gave up and offed himself if that was what it took, but he'd never love Kendall. Never be the man Kendall needed him to be. So Kendall decided to be miserable without him and attempt to gain back some self -respect as opposed to being miserable with him and continuing to have no dignity or self-worth.

Ten years. Ten years he'd allowed this twisted game to continue, all the while hoping this one would be it. Each meeting wishing that this one would be the time they made love and James' saw him in a different light. But if anything, James was dehumanizing Kendall even more so than before these past few months. Kendall was positive about this after their last encounter. He'd know as it was happening that if he'd asked James to stop (like he'd so desperately wanted to) that, despite the fact that there was blood running down Kendall's legs from the lack of lube and preparation, and despite the fact that Kendall had been openly sobbing, tears pouring from his eyes due to the pain, James would have continued on until he was satisfied. And that was what snapped everything into place. A decade was about nine years, eleven months and thirty days longer than he should have allowed himself to be debased like that.

The door to the hotel room swung open, startling Kendall, and he whirled around, suddenly breathing heavily as he found himself face to face with James. The man he hated himself for loving so unconditionally.

James reached for him and for the first time in his life, Kendall jerked away, recoiling from the other's touch like it was acid. And it was. Because if Kendall allowed James to touch him, that touch would burn through whatever layers he'd worn and scorch his skin and melting away common sense like always, and he'd be repeating the same mistakes, shutting his mouth and bending over, giving up whatever James wished to take from him this time.

But now, Kendall had nothing left to give. He'd already given it all. His virginity, his love, his pride, his heart and soul. His dignity and self-respect. His entire being. He'd already given it all to James and he had nothing left for himself. Nothing to show for it. He'd gotten nothing in return aside from James' cock up his ass. So when James reached for him he stepped away, because for the first time in ten years he had nothing left to give and nothing left to lose.

James tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow asking the silent question as he wavered somewhere between confusion, surprise and annoyance.

"I only met you here today to tell you that I'm done with…this. Whatever _this_ is. Whatever we are. I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry," Kendall told him in a voice that came out in a braver tone than he'd expected, somehow managing to mask his anxiety and doubt, not giving way to his internal struggle with what he was insinuating. He sounded….composed. Self-assured. Confident. Things he hadn't even felt, much less sounded, in over a decade.

James' other eyebrow rose at this, joining the first and he rolled his eyes disdainfully. "You couldn't have fuckin' texted me that? You had to make me waste my time driving out here?"

"What's wrong? Can't handle a taste of your own medicine? You don't like being used? Ironic, isn't it?" Kendall sneered right back, feeling all of his residual anger and resentment for the way James had always treated him beginning to take over.

"Excuse me?" James wasn't really asking him anything. He was giving the blond a chance to take back his words.

"I'm nothing to you! I'm less than nothing! I'm just somewhere to bury your cock guilt-free in between your endless line of random bitches!" Kendall accused, straightening his spine and staring at James, daring him to argue, suddenly sure of himself and his decision.

"Wow, try not to break your neck when you fall off that high horse of yours."

"What are you talking about?"

"You wanna falsify this situation and villainize me in your own mind to make yourself feel better, you go right ahead. But don't you dare try to stand there in front of me and act like this isn't a two way street. You can't lie to me like you can to yourself, Kendall. I'm not buying the bullshit you're selling. The only difference between you and me in this equation is that I will freely admit that I'm using you. But you…you'd rather play the damn victim. Do me a favor, all right? Before you point out the splinter in my eye, take the damn two by four out of your own!"

"What?" Kendall withdrew, feeling his anger begin to completely take over now, bubbling out of him, about to explode like a bottle of champagne when uncorked. "How the hell am _I_ using _you_?"

James gave a short bark of condescending laughter. "Seriously? You don't know?"

Kendall gave an emphatic shake of his head, hand on hip, glaring at James, daring him to make him out to be the bad guy in this stupid mess they'd built together.

"Are you in love with me?" James asked.

"What? What the, fuck, what the hell kind of question is that? What does it have to do with anything you prick?" Kendall tried to cover his panic with more anger, terrified that he'd finally been found out, that James now knew his deepest, darkest secret.

"It's a simple question, Kendall," James stated, stalking forward, forcing Kendall to walk backwards away from him until his back was flush with the wall behind him and James stood in front of him, glaring down at him with a snide, taunting look. Mocking him. Daring the blond to deny the accusation.

"Why do you want to know?" Kendall asked, voice wavering just enough that James immediately picked up on it.

"Are. You. In. Love. With. Me?" James repeated, gritting each word out between clenched teeth, looking menacing enough to scare Kendall.

"I'm not answering that," Kendall whispered his response.

James gripped Kendall's t-shirt in his fist, slamming Kendall against the wall, holding him up enough that his feet dangled, not quite touching the carpet below. "Answer the question," James demanded.

Kendall shook his head, trying not to let the brunet see how scared he truly was of him in that moment. James brought his free hand up, placing it at Kendall's throat, applying a fair amount of pressure to his trachea, making it hard for Kendall to breathe, much less speak.

"Answer the fucking question!" He roared.

Kendall dropped his eyes, cursing the traitorous tear that slipped out of his left eye and began making a track mark down his cheek. "Yes," He finally whispered, ashamed.

James let go of Kendall so suddenly that the blond crumpled to the ground, gasping for air and trembling, hands scrambling to clutch at his throat where he could feel a bruise in the shape of James' hand already forming. A parting gift, of sorts. Bruises always had been James' favorite gift to bestow upon the blond.

"And you know I'm not in love with you, right?"

Kendall nodded, refusing to look up, wrapping his arms around his torso, trying to bring himself comfort but failing miserably.

"But you still let me fuck you anytime, anywhere, right?"

Kendall repeated his actions, nodding and willing himself not to sniffle so James wouldn't realize how close he was to breaking down right in front of him.

A sardonic chuckle left James' lips and from his spot on the floor Kendall saw James' shoes pivot away from him as he turned to leave. Opening the door, James looked back at Kendall, waiting until the blond finally tore his eyes from the floor and made contact with his own in a clash of hazel and green to speak. "And yet you think you're not using me every bit as much as I'm using you," He said in a softer tone, his voice etched in pity as he walked out the door, slamming it shut between him and Kendall for the last time. And of course, he still managed to leave behind a destroyed, heartbroken mess. The same as always.


End file.
